


Trust Tease

by tielan



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Fucked Raw, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-10-18 09:45:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10614342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tielan/pseuds/tielan
Summary: Going slow, going deep, playing games with someone you trust with your body and your vulnerabilities.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sunspot (unavoidedcrisis)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/unavoidedcrisis/gifts).



Upon entering Steve’s apartment in Stark Tower, Maria is greeted by a loud grunt and a thump that rattles the glassware in the kitchen cupboard.

Reaching for her sidearm is a reflex action, instinctive. A moment later, JARVIS’ voice comes through the ceiling speakers.

“If you are concerned about the noise, Ms Hill, Captain Rogers and Thor are engaging in hand to hand in the playroom.”

“Thank you, JARVIS.” Still, she only lowers the weapon from immediate alert and moves through the apartment with alacrity towards the padded sparring room – more commonly termed ‘the playroom’ thanks to Barton.

Of course, Maria knows better than to just walk in when an Asgardian godling and a supersoldier are sparring. Instead, she stands a little to the side and signals for the sliding door to open. It hisses a little – the barest sound against another rattling _thump_ , and she carefully peers inside.

Two blond-haired, blue-eyed men look up at her, their swift study identifying her, even as they catalogue her as no threat. The one with his face nearly in the floor and his arm twisted behind his back grins. “Commander Hill.”

“Thor.” She looks at Steve, whose expression has brightened with a spark that catches in her chest. “Steve.”

“Hey—” He gets no further. Thor somehow manages to hook his arm around Steve and jerk up, throwing them both over and breaking Steve’s hold on him. The next moment, Steve is the one down on the ground with Thor’s arm around his throat.

“You became distracted.”

Steve looks at Maria and his expression is rueful. “I did.”

Thor chuckles as he regards Maria, then lets go of Steve’s arm and steps back to offer his friend a hand up. “Doubtless I’d have done the same had it been Jane who came to the door.”

“You’d have been worse.”

“Much worse.” The two men look at each other for a moment, grinning, then Thor gives Steve a slap on the back that would send a normal human face first into the wall. “Behave.”

He pats Maria on the shoulder as he passes, and the mischief in his smile makes her cheeks warm. She’d swear he can see what she’s wearing beneath the prim business shirt and suit skirt, even if she’s pretty damn sure that Asgardians don’t have X-Ray vision. And the scent of him as he passes is musk and sweat and something that smells...tingly.

She half-turns, frowning, but Steve is coming towards her and she lifts her mouth for a greeting kiss, a soft and teasing buss that only just slides into the tender parts of her mouth and leaves her wanting more when he draws back.

“How was the meeting?”

“It met.” Her nostrils are full of the scent of his skin, lightly slicked with sweat. “You had a good workout with Thor?”

“Up until I got distracted.” He slides one hand into her collar, fingers curling around her nape. “I like the outfit.”

“You’ve seen these clothes before.”

“Sure. But never in a time and place where I was allowed to take them off you...”

Steve leans down and kisses her again – less a kiss, more a slow sampling of her mouth. Maria slides a hand into his hair, damp and hot and silky, and and presses herself against him, shivering at the rising thrust of his erection against her belly. An arm slides under her bottom, effortlessly hoisting her up, and she grabs for his shoulder, clinging on instinct.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs. Then he grunts as Maria spreads her thighs a little in the A-line skirt so he’s settled in the apex of her thighs with her legs wrapped around his hips. “Or you’ve got me.”

“It can be both.” She moves against him in pleasurable stimulation, and his hands hold her in place as his mouth comes down over hers. Time blurs, measured only by the piercing ache growing deep between her thighs. She tears her mouth away. “So, are we doing this clothed or naked?”

“Mm...” Steve leans back a little, a febrile flush staining his cheeks as he studies her silky grey shirt. “Maybe both.”

Maria has time to arch a brow before she’s being set back down on her feet and Steve is pulling the sleek, skin-tight sporting top he wore to wrestle with Thor over his head. Beneath it, hard muscle flexes. She lets her gaze linger on him, revelling for a moment in the aesthetic pleasure of a beautiful body, then reaches for the buttons of her shirt.

His hands close over hers, and she looks up into the intent blue of his eyes.

“May I?”

She lifts her hands in surrender, and Steve tilts his head down to kiss her as he slips buttons out of buttonholes until her shirt gapes. He draws back to look at her, and his eyes widen. Maria fights the urge to cover her breasts – this is what she wore this _for_ , isn’t it?

“You wore _this_ in a business meeting?” Steve tugs the edge of her shirt back over the lace and skin, then flips it open again. “Ho-ly—.”

“Nobody saw,” she says, then shivers as he brushes the lace edge down and rolls her nipple between his fingers.

“Good.” He nips at her mouth again, and snaps the tip of her breast between his fingers. Maria closes her teeth sharply over his lower lip in revenge, then yelps as he hoists her up, holding her firmly around her waist. Her hands clutch at his shoulders, her breath short, her legs automatically trying to find solid purchase. Then his mouth closes on her lace-covered nipple, and he sucks hard. Maria freezes. Fierce sensation skitters across her skin, pooling in her breasts, in her belly, in her groin. Maria stifles the squeal that tries to come out of her mouth, settling for a moan as Steve settles into a sensuous rhythm of tongue and teeth...

But Maria has nothing to hold onto but him, not quite able to relax so long as she’s up in the air.

“Steve...”

“Mm?” He lifts his head from the swollen pink nub and glances briefly up at her before dropping his gaze back down to her breasts again.

“I...” Maria pushes at his head as he lowers it to her other breast. “Oh, God, Steve—” The warm wet of his mouth through the lace guts her, and she arches, but manages to ask, “Down—! I need down...”

He shifts his grip on her, easing her down, but not quite to the floor. “Here or the bedroom?”

“I—Whichever you prefer. Bed would be more comfortable—” But a frown has crossed his face, and he’s sliding a hand up her stocking-clad thigh. “What?”

His fingers stretch out on her bare upper thigh, thumb absently brushing the scar of an old knife-wound as he strokes the strap at the back of her thigh, toying with sensitive skin. “You’re wearing _stockings_.” 

“Yes—” This time she _does_ squeal as he swings her up into his arms. “Steve...”

“Maria...” He matches her tone of voice as he kneels down the mats of the sparring room and sets her on her back in front of him, his hands skimming her skirt waistband. “Where’s the zipper on this?”

“In the back,” she manages, and pushes her hips up so he can slide the zipper down and draw the skirt off her.

Then he sits back on his heels and surveys her with a light in his eyes that makes her pulse race.

“What is it?”

“You wore this into a business meeting?”

She blinks at the possessive resonances of his voice, then scowls at the implications. “It was under a suit!” But he’s not listening, his hand already cupping her knee, warm through the stocking’s silky weave. Maria lets her thighs fall open as he trails his hand up her inside thigh and strokes her through the lace of her panties.

“I want you like this,” Steve says, as frank in desire as he is in most things. “Wearing as much of this as possible.”

“That’s going to be difficult,” Maria starts before the light caress over her clit becomes a harder stroke of his fingers, drenching the lace with her slickness. She gropes for the tent in his tracksuit pants and grips hard, half-tugging at his dick. He doesn’t flinch away from her touch but thrusts against her hand, even as he leans over her and their mouths meet.

Maria likes the noise Steve makes in his throat when she gets her hand inside his track pants and boxer shorts and gives his balls a good hard tug – somewhere between a grunt and a moan. He doesn’t protest her handling, though, just pushes himself against her, lovely and shameless.

“In the mood for rough today?”

“Thor got my blood up.”

“Mm, I can tell.” Maria laughs in his face, then gasps when the lace of her panties is pushed aside and Steve plunges his fingers into her. Pleasure whips through her senses like an adrenaline rush as Steve finds her g-spot with unerring accuracy and strokes it with inexorable rhythm.

“I want to hear you when you come,” he murmurs, shifting so he’s covering her body with his as he kisses her in rhythm with the movement of his fingers. Warm waves of sensation wash over her as his mouth drifts down her throat. “So clever and competent and put together all the time, like nothing can touch you.”

“You’re touching me now.”

“I am.” Steve’s thumb rubs over her clit, the lightly skewed triangle of lace over her mound providing a vicious friction that explodes through her senses. Maria bites her lip to keep from screaming then moans into his mouth when he tugs her lip out with his teeth. “I want you to lose it when I fuck you, Maria,” he murmurs, his fingers still pressing her inside and out. “No calculating, no thinking – just me and what I’m doing to you.”

He’s well on his way to driving all thought from her head, but Maria can’t quite get the words out of her mouth. Instead she grabs his head and kisses him, moving her hips against him, using his fingers as stimulation. And Steve laughs in her mouth, then starts to make his way down her body, dotting kisses as he goes.

Desire grows sharper with each moment, tightening with each flex of his fingers, tingling with each damp lick of his tongue. His mouth closes over her clit—

Everything shatters in Maria, a pleasure so strong it might very well be pain. Steve knows how to work with her body, how to use his tongue, and the lace— So much _friction—_ So much _ache—_ And he keeps _going_ , adding to the rhythms of her orgasm so it lasts and lasts and _lasts_...

She’s dimly aware of Steve moving, as though through a fog. He lies down beside her, and she instinctively snuggles in against the warmth of his body.

“Hey,” he murmurs in her ear, one arm slipping around her back, warming her through the shirt that she’s still wearing, although it gapes down the front.

“Mmm.” Maria half-lifting her lashes. “That was nice.”

The hand sliding around her waist hesitates. “ _Nice_ ?” 

“Very nice.” Her lids droop, and she doesn’t smile as she imagines the slightest of frowns crossing his face. Even a man as celebrated as Steve Rogers has an ego that needs stroking when it comes to sex. Although, from the press of his erection against her thigh, Steve isn’t going to need much more stimulation...

Maria stretches a little and contemplates just lying here a few moments more. She enjoys the post-orgasmic lassitude – sexual trust is in very short supply for a woman in her position, so someone with whom she can relax is a godsend – but she doesn’t think it’s fair to leave him aching, even if he can take it.

So she rolls up to her knees, straddling his hips, even as he sits up.

“Down, boy,” she tells him, and smiles as he blinks at the command in her voice. But he doesn’t lie back, just fixes his gaze on her mouth. She expects him to move in for the kiss, but he doesn’t.

“So we’re getting bossy, are we?”

“Not willing to take orders from me, Rogers?”

He rests one hand on the lace top of her stocking, his thumb leaving a warmly tingling trail as he rubs it up her inner thigh. “Depends on the orders, Hill.”

Maria gives him a nudge backwards. “Lie back and trust me.”

“Think of America?”

She slides her hands into his pants and closes her fingers around him, all hot and hard and damp. As his mouth opens in a gasp, she leans in and lets her lips whisper against his. “I dare you to try.”

* * *

Steve still has the taste of musk in his mouth as he sprawls on the mats of the sparring room, naked as a jaybird, with Maria kneeling between his thighs.

He’s had blowjobs before: before the war, during his time with the USO – even once from Peggy, although it was just the once and she never referred to it or the circumstances that led to it so Steve was never comfortable bringing it up.

Steve hasn’t let Maria bring him to ejaculation in her mouth yet. Getting her into bed was a major victory in and of itself, and he took the time to linger over her, to learn what she likes and wants and is willing to do. But if she doesn’t mind Thor knowing that she’s sleeping with Steve, then he figures she’s comfortable enough in this relationship not to drop him like a worthless cause. And even the half-done jobs he didn’t let her complete were head-spinningly sensuous before he either dragged her up and onto him, or flipped her over and reciprocated.

This is a new level of intimate.

The visual of cool, controlled Maria Hill bent over him in lace and lingerie slicking his dick between her lips is _wild_. 

And all the more when the blue eyes flick up to him with a dangerous glitter.

And that’s just the _visual_. 

Steve’s struggling not to thrust into her mouth at the wet heat, the flick of her tongue, the pressure of her mouth. As it is, with his body on fire, his balls aching in her hand, he twitches his hips, then groans as his dick pops out of her mouth.

“You don’t usually let me go this long.” Maria licks her lips, pink and swollen from his kisses before.

“Well, I thought I’d let you show me what you can do.” Steve indicates his erection. “Although if you want to take a ride...”

He likes being underneath; he has less control, but he gets to watch her _lose_ control. And he wouldn’t admit this to many people, but there’s a hotness factor in lying back and being used as Maria Hill’s sex toy. 

“Mm.” Maria’s smile is as sweetly vicious, and Steve’s gut bottoms out as she closes her mouth over him, takes a deep breath and slides down, down, down, down... His hands tighten on the mats, scrunching them before he makes his grip loosen, his fingers flattening as his head drops back. But losing sight of her doesn’t help with the feel of her throat working, her tongue flicking his balls eve as she gags...

She comes up gasping, and Steve starts to sit up, his own gag reflex half-active in sympathy, but is stopped when she presses her hand to his belly. “Stay. Down.”

“I’d rather you didn’t choke on me!”

“Believe me, it’s not on my to-do list.” She licks the tip of his erection, and her hands splay on his hips, not holding him in place so much as encouraging him not to move. “Lie back and shut up, Steve.”

He’s tempted to argue the point. Yes, it felt incredible to feel her taking him in like that, but he wants her to _enjoy_ fellating him, not just doing it because she thinks he wants it. 

Maria tilts her head, arching her brow in question. “What?”

“You don’t have to—if it’s uncomfortable for you— This is new—”

“Steve.” Her fingers tighten on his hips. “If it’s uncomfortable, I’ll stop. Like I just did. Trust me to know my limits.”

Steve makes himself relax back against the mats. He trusts her. He has to.

He’s just not comfortable with her choking on his dick.

But if she wants to try again...

She doesn’t try to take him into her throat again. But Steve has no time for relief as she fucks him in her mouth without mercy. He pants and moans as she goes slow and fast, soft and hard, sucking on his balls while jerking him off in her hand, and licking the tip as fastidiously as a cat before swallowing his head up again.

His blood boils beneath his skin and every inch of his body writhes with fire. He doesn’t know how long he comes, but Maria’s mouth is firmly over him, capturing him and swallowing every drop of semen until his erection flags and he relaxes, panting.

Vaguely he’s aware she’s started to sit back on her heels. Steve cups the back of her head and tugs her back up so he can kiss her.

He doesn’t quite linger over the taste of him in her mouth, but he does slide his tongue up against hers, nibbling at her mouth. And she relaxes against him, sensuous and satisfied with her work, and willing to show it. So much so that she allows his hands to roam up and down her body quite freely, without protest. So Steve strokes bare skin, rubs at lace edges, teases sensitive zones...

“Watch it!” Maria pushes herself up as his finger brushes over the line of lace that slides between her buttocks, pausing to put the slightest pressure over her anus. “ _That’s_ a no.”

“‘No, never’ or ‘No, not yet’?”

“You’re _negotiating_?”

“Shouldn’t I?” He watches her expression shutter. It’s not a rejection, it’s a sign that she’s thinking, even if her face isn’t telling him _what_ she’s thinking. And maybe he needs to give her something, too.

In spite of his modern reputation as a clean-cut American hero, Steve was a boy of tender years in New York during the Roaring Twenties, and a ‘fanciful’ looking young man through the Depression years. His memories aren’t always the best kind, and many would be counted abusive by today’s standards, but the here and now isn’t the there and then, and he’s been experimenting – pretty much by himself, although Sam was willing to help a little.

He’s been wondering if Maria would be interested in experimenting with him. Or on him.

“I...I was thinking, I’d like you to put something in me and then ride me.”

Maria stares at him, and her eyes narrow. “You’ve already got the ‘something’, don’t you?”

“For myself, yes.” He looks up at her face, wary and tense. “I wouldn’t get something for you without your permission and you don’t have to if it’s not your thing. But if you’re willing, maybe we could—”

“Okay.”

He was expecting to have to do a little more lead-in. “Okay? You’d do that?” Excitement crawls in his belly.

“Well, I don’t want you getting me any toys without me looking over your shoulder and telling you what I’ll accept.”

Steve grins at her droll tone. “Deal.”

He nips at her mouth, sliding his tongue along her lower lip. The thought of sitting with her and looking through the sites is kind of hot, and with Maria still lying atop him in her scraps of lace...

“Steve...”

He cups her head and rolls them over, so she’s pinned beneath him. “No toys,” he murmurs against her mouth. “Just us.”

“And the lingerie.”

“Lingerie isn’t a toy.”

“It’s a sex aid—” Her voice hitches as he settles himself into her hips. A moment later, her hands land on his buttocks with a smack that registers in his ears rather than his skin. Maria grips him, grinding her hips against him, and Steve adjusts his positioning and grinds back, desire writhing beneath his skin, pleased by the way she arches back, lace and flesh scraping his senses.

“I don’t need any aids when it comes to you.”

“You don’t need the sweet talk either,” she manages as they thrust back and forth, dry-humping—

Well, they’re not _dry_. The sound of their hips against each other has a slickness to it, both Maria’s musk and his own pre-come lubricating their moves. 

He pulls himself up and off her, tugging at the waistband of her panties. “Take this off?”

Maria stares at him blankly for a moment, her pupils large and dark in her eyes. Then, “Yes.”

There are some unexpected logistics involved in taking the panties off – she’s put them on _underneath_ the stockings and straps, which requires detaching everything, drawing off the sticky scrap of lace, then reconnecting everything back up. 

“I never thought it might be this hot to _dress_ a woman,” he mutters, a little distracted, because Maria’s been stroking the line of his hip.

“I told you,” Maria’s mouth curves as her palm skims his thigh, her nails grazing his skin.. “Sex aid.”

Steve slides his fingers through her cleft, fondling her nub before giving it a little tug. “And you’re willing to experiment with me?”

Her lashes lower and her breath catches, breasts lifting in the smoky gray lace. “On you, with you... Yes.” She lifts her hips a little, pressing against his fingers, and wraps her hand around his dick, rubbing. “But not now.”

“Not now,” Steve agrees breathlessly, kissing her again and urging her down onto her back.

Maria winds an arm around his shoulders as he comes down over her, and her eyes hold Steve’s as he slides into her, slow, so she can feel every inch of him, so he can savour the feeling of her around him.

Her lashes drop suddenly, her lips parting in a gasp, and Steve drops back a little and presses in again. This time she makes a noise like steam escaping a kettle, and her hand clutches at his spine. _Oh yes_. He starts repeating the move, pressing that particular spot with his dick and Maria arches up against him, her body going tense and tight. Even before Steve reaches between them and slides his finger alongside her clit, rubbing in counterpoint to the thrust of his hips, he can feel her muscles closing around him. 

She laughs, incoherent syllables in his ear – or maybe they’re words and Steve’s just not hearing them. His world has narrowed down to her body and his: the hazy blindness of her gaze, the eager writhe of her body, the pound of his blood beneath their mingled panting.

He keeps moving in her, although his control is fraying, his balls tight and aching. And her control is long gone, her hands clawing at his back, her mouth seeking and finding his as she moves against him in pleasurable abandon.

Steve’s world explodes in a dizzying cacophony of sensation, drowned in the scent and feel and taste and sound of Maria. The slick slide of flesh grows slappy and wet as he spills into her, while her body continues to flex and clench around him, even when he stops and rests his forehead against hers.

There’s no sound but the thunder of his heartbeat and the panting rhythm of their breathing.

Steve lets himself relax on her, just a little. Maria doesn’t seem to mind his post-orgasmic sprawl. No, her hand strokes his nape, skims the muscles of his upper back, teases down to the base of his spine where she just rubs circles over his tailbone, right at the cleft of his buttocks.

It tickles a little, and Steve shifts, then tenses as she hisses.

“Still sore?”

“God, yes.” Maria sighs. “Why do you have to be so damn _up_?” Because Steve might be spent for the moment, but his erection hasn’t quite subsided which makes pulling out of her a sensitive proposition – particularly when she’s orgasmed multiple times.

“I thought you liked me up.” He grins at her snort. “We can wait a while.”

“And we both know how _that_ will end.” 

If he doesn’t pull out – if they stay intimately wrapped – then it doesn’t take much to get him hard again... Which they tried once and Maria slept for ten hours afterwards and was sore for another day after _that_... 

“Okay.” He kisses her. “Fast or slow?”

“Slow.”

“Isn’t it going to hurt more if I do slow?”

Maria just gives him a look. And Steve grins and kisses her soft and slow as he eases himself out of her – with one little nudge against her g-spot on the way out to make her shiver.

“Asshole,” she mutters against his mouth.

Steve smirks as he settles down next to her on the mats, taking the opportunity her lassitude presents – a Maria relaxed and at ease. “Only sometimes.”


End file.
